


forward out into the day

by burningdarkfire



Series: a purpose in this world [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningdarkfire/pseuds/burningdarkfire
Summary: As the years pass, Genji finds what it means to live again.





	1. (10 years ago)

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read Hanzo's accompanying story - no worries, this fic should stand perfectly fine by itself. Please enjoy.
> 
> The title is inspired by the [Bastille songs](https://open.spotify.com/album/7HxQpGRaQXPudaP1t8E6n9).

Genji dreams.

He lies on some hard surface.  Something holds his wrists and ankles down, although he does little more than weakly try to rattle his bindings.  Somehow, he already knows there is no escaping.

The details are hazy – he is not entirely sure how old he is or what room he is in or what he is meant to be doing.  But the person he dreams about is crystal clear.

Hanzo lectures him.  Hanzo _always_ lectures him.

“You are not playing politics like a Shimada should.  You should have focused your efforts on Hitomi, taken her to dinner, and convinced her to pressure her father.  You are not courting death like a Shimada should.  You should have thrown the challenge at Daizou instead of trying to talk it out like a coward.  You are not bringing honour to the clan like a Shimada should.  You should have talked like I do, and walked like I do, and killed like I do.”

The lights are blinding.  He closes his eyes. 

Hanzo cuts into him, his sword slicing easily through skin and tissue.  It is a dream, and Genji allows himself to be dissected, sliced open and scrutinized for defects.  Hanzo never stops talking.  The list of ways Genji has disappointed him and the clan are endless.

Genji is warm under the lights.  He can feel his blood pooling around him.  He imagines that soon, Hanzo will chide him for ruining his perfectly white shirt.  It is obviously dishonourable for Genji to bleed.  When has a son of Sojiro ever been anything but flawless?

He should fight back.  He knows he should.  His older brother’s approval is at stake.

Genji has always desperately wanted Hanzo to love him and respect him and cherish him.  Genji has always only wanted to stand by Hanzo’s side as a brother and an equal. 

But Genji is tired, and he keeps his eyes closed, and he lets himself be torn apart.

* * *

Genji wakes.

The pain seeps in slowly, as if his body reluctant to relinquish sleep.  It seems to ignite one nerve at a time, slowly, slowly, until every inch of his being feels like it is on fire and he is engulfed.

The pain does not stop.  Genji tries to move, to run, but he is shackled and blinded.  The world is diminished only to the pain he feels radiating through every fibre of his body.

Genji screams.

* * *

Genji lives.

He opens his eyes excruciatingly slowly and squints through the haze.  He is dimly aware that he must be under every painkiller known to man, and he marvels at how merely moving his eyelids can still hurt.  His entire body feels tense, like it is humming with the mere effort of keeping itself together.

“Genji,” a foreign voice says softly.  He tries to turn his head but finds he cannot.  Even if pain did not cripple the thought of movement, he can feel straps and structures holding him in place, forcing him to stare up at a white ceiling.

A young woman leans forward into his field of view.  She smiles despite the bags under her eyes.  “Hello, Genji.  I am so happy to see you are awake.  How are you feeling?”

He manages some sort of grunt.  His muscles do not seem to be under his control.

She gives a gentle chuckle and leans back, tapping something into a machine.  Genji hears a series of beeps and a machine beside him seems to adjust, letting out a brief hiss of air before the woman returns to his field of vision.

“My name is Dr. Angela Ziegler,” she says, “and I am in charge of your recovery.  Welcome to Watchpoint: Nanjing, Genji.  You are under the protection of Overwatch now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates should be every week and each will cover roughly about a year.
> 
> If you read my Hanzo fic and have been waiting ever since - I'm sorry! I intended to take a one week break that turned into some spontaneous travel that turned into being overwhelmed upon my return home. Things are currently very busy for me, but I have my fingers crossed I should be back on track.
> 
> I found this much tricker to write, since Genji meets many other canon cast members and it's just a whole mess haha. I'd love to do accompanying one-shots just figuring out his relationships with Mercy, Reaper, etc. and how they change over the years. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are, as always, love! Thanks for reading :)


	2. (9 years ago)

Genji loses track of time.  His room seems to have a constantly rotating door of doctors, nurses, and psychiatrists, who all take their turn asking him how he feels in sickeningly sweet voices.  When he is finally declared stable enough to be introduced to Gabriel Reyes, he has already begun to suspect why Overwatch has poured so much time and resources into him.

He is to be an experiment.

Reyes words it a little better, a little kinder, but his voice is gruff and his face is tired.  He is here to ask Genji to become a soldier for a different side.  Dr. Zeigler stands beside Genji’s bed, smiling at him.

It feels like a betrayal.  

Genji wants to scream that he had been willing to die to avoid the bloody life his family had carved out for him, but he cannot.  His vocal chords are damaged beyond repair.  He cannot speak for himself.

Instead, he just closes his eyes.  Dr. Zeigler prompts him a few times, but he allows himself to drift away, retreating back into the hazy sea of his mind.  He is still on so many drugs he is surprised he wakes at all.

“It is a lot for him to take in,” she says to Reyes in a hushed tone.  “I will talk to him.  Come again to see him another day.”

He hears Reyes step out of the room, his heavy boots clanking down the hallway.  Dr. Zeigler approaches and Genji is surprised to feel her brush her thumbs against his scarred cheeks.

He is crying.

“I am sorry,” Dr. Zeigler says gently.  “I know it is not necessarily the life you wish to live, but when they brought you to me, I could not just let you die.  It is for the best, Genji.  You can still bring good into this world.”

Genji stays quiet and pretends to sleep until she leaves, the warmth of her thumb still lingering in the cool hospital air.

* * *

“Make a fist with your right hand.”

Genji does as he is told, trying not to think too hard about the quiet whir his new hand makes.  Three shuriken pop out of his hand.

 “Did you do that on purpose?”

“No.” 

Dr. Zeigler jots something down.  “Try to throw them straight in front of you.”

Genji extends his arm forcefully, letting the shuriken fly from his fingers.  Dr. Zeigler and his team of doctors had spent an incredible amount of effort and care to design his new body.  He should be able to take full advantage of all his childhood training and more. 

But the shuriken scatter into the padded wall across from him with dull thuds.  Not a single one lands in front of him.

Dr. Zeigler frowns.  She presses a few buttons and Genji feels like the muscles in his arm are tightening ever so slightly.  He hates it.  He has to resist the urge to shake his artificial limb to try and loosen the tension. 

“Try again, please.”

Genji closes his hand into a fist again, but this time no shuriken pop out.  He repeats the motion but gets the same result.

He looks at Dr. Zeigler.  She sighs.

“We will try again later,” she says gently.  “This is good progress, Genji.  How are you feeling?”

He does not answer.  He hates the mechanical echo in his voice.  It does not sound like him.  When they first gave him new vocal chords, he had screamed until they put him back under observation for a week.

After a few beats of silence, Dr. Zeigler squeezes his clenched hand and tells him to get some rest.  Genji leans back and closes his eyes, thankful for the brief respite.  Sleep is as close to dead as he gets. 

When he is awake, he wants to literally crawl out of his own skin precisely because it is no longer his own.  They built this body to serve them, not him, and he can never forget it. 

Dr. Zeigler hums as she leaves his room and it haunts his dreams.


	3. (8 years ago)

Genji should never have underestimated Hanzo.

This is what he thinks as he slices through Talon operatives.  It is his second or third mission with Blackwatch – honestly, he does not spend much time keeping track.  He thinks these missions are little different than his nightmares anyway.  There is blood everywhere and everything hurts and he cannot die.

Of course Hanzo would not have given him this one ultimate wish of his younger brother.  Hanzo has always been determined to prevent Genji from getting anything he wanted.

Hanzo, the shining heir of the Shimada Clan, had refused to even killed him properly.  He was probably sitting in the castle with a smirk on his face, laughing at Genji’s foolish belief that he could ever escape a bloody fate.

Genji throws three shurikens into the face of a guard.  The guard screams, clawing at his face, until Genji puts him out of his misery.  His cybernetic arm glistens with blood. 

They tear their way through the city to the extraction point and Genji collapses to the floor of the ship as soon as they lift off.  Every sensor in his body is going haywire, alerting him to his bloodied state as if he did not already know, and he fights to stay conscious as they overwhelm him. 

_This is my body_ , he thinks angrily, trying to dismiss the notifications, even as the quiet whir of motors whispers _this is not your body this has never been your body your body has never belonged to you you have always belonged to someone el-_

He hears a shout.  McCree is still ranting about unnecessary assassinations as he and Reyes are being seen to by medics.  Moira sits by herself in a corner, paying them little mind as she tends to herself.  At a harsh glance from Reyes, McCree lowers his voice but continues to speak, jabbing his finger at his superior accusingly.

Genji thinks McCree a fool.  Does he not know yet that this is just how the world is?

Genji is forced to move as his personal medical team approaches him.  Dr. Zeigler had insisted on training a team to follow him around.  When Genji asks, she smiles and says that cybernetic treatment is tricky and it is only until he learns how to take care of himself, but the implications are clear. 

Overwatch does not trust Genji with their investment.

His team crowds in to fuss over this wayward tube or that misadjusted screw.  These days, humans with cybernetics are just as common as humans without.  He had seen them frequently in his youth, especially considering the trade he grew up in.  But he knows he has crossed some invisible line, because he is nothing without the hum of his technological veins.  He hates how he can catch the moments when his team has to remind themselves that he is not just a project.  They are always either too full of excitement or pity. 

Genji flexes his arm subconsciously as a nurse adjusts his shoulder.  He has come to an odd, stubborn sort of acceptance with his situation.  If this was Hanzo’s intention, then his message has been ruthlessly delivered.  Life outside the Shimada Clan is no different than life within.

Genji has always been nothing.  He winces as another nurse wipes bloods off of his chest, the warm cloth carefully patting away at where flesh meets metal.  Genji has never been allowed to just exist.  He has always had to be something else for someone else. 

He tilts his head back, letting the rumble of the dropship rattle his metal bones.  His med team murmur around him as they take their measurements. 

He just wants to sleep.  Let them use him how they please.  He refuses to care.


	4. (7 years ago)

“Genji.”

Reyes stands in the door to his room.  His figure fills the frame.

Genji says nothing.  He and Reyes have long ago reached an unspoken understanding that they do not need the buttering of small talk.  He is a pawn and they both know it. 

“There will be an assault mission at Shimada Castle,” Reyes says.  “Your last reconnaissance was successful.  We are going to take them down.”

Genji had retrieved a number of important files from Shimada Castle for Overwatch.  He had not been discovered under the stealth of night, and in the darkness, it was easy enough to pretend he was not infiltrating his childhood home.

He had not seen Hanzo.

“Your brother is not there,” Reyes says carefully.

Genji pauses.  His hands can now hold still, without a tremble, the way that human hands never could.  He has almost gotten used to the feel of his new body.  The constancy of the mechanical hum soothes him, sometimes.  It reminds him of what he is and who he has to blame for it.  “Hanzo loves the Shimada Clan more than he loves his own brother.  Where else could he be?”

Reyes takes a step forward, over the threshold, as if hoping to catch Genji before he could spring.  “The Shimada Clan has kept it tightly under wraps, but we know now that Hanzo defected well over a year ago.” 

Genji barks out a harsh laugh.  Hanzo has truly always done whatever suits himself best.

“If you need to sit this one out –“

Genji cuts Reyes off.  “Tell me when the briefings are.  I will be there.”

Silence sits heavy in the room until Reyes nods his head and leaves. 

* * *

Reyes motions at Genji and jerks his thumb over his shoulder.  “I think the agents are done with all the important stuff.  If you want, it is all yours.”

“This place sure is impressive,” McCree says, puffing away at a cigarette.  The smoke rises into the air, a faint echo of the chaos that had befallen Shimada Castle in the early morning.

Genji had killed a lot of people and recognized none of them.  The only familiar face he had seen was his aunt, as she was escorted away into the back of an Overwatch vehicle.  What had happened here in the Shimada Clan after his death?  Where are his father’s people?  Where is Hanzo?

Genji wanders through the hallways, mindless of the debris.  Wooden chips cannot hurt his metal feet.  He finds his way down to the storage rooms, where boxes are already messy and overturned from the Overwatch agents who had come before him.

He riffles through what they left behind.  Most boxes are filled with clothing and keepsakes he does not recognize.  The previous generations of the Shimada Clan linger here in the dust.  He finds some boxes with his old belongings, presumably stored away after he had died.  More boxes haphazardly stacked beside a shelf hold his brother’s things.

So Hanzo had truly abandoned the Shimada Clan.

Genji opens another box and finds a scrapbook with a picture of himself and Hanzo in the front.  They are playing in the sand at the beach.  He remembers his mother working on this book in her spare time, modelling it after the photo albums of her mother before her. 

He does not open the scrapbook.  He does not want to remember the happiness he had had in another life.

But he tucks it into a box with the rest of his belongings and radios for agents to come help him.  Genji points at what is his, and after a moment of hesitation, also motions for them to carry away the boxes of Hanzo’s things. 

He steps back out into the hallway as the agents bustle around him.  He will sort through it all later.  Genji pushes through the knot in his chest and continues through the castle.

* * *

Genji enters the dojo.  His footsteps feel foreign against the smooth mats.  He has changed so much since he last stepped foot in here.  He had been ready to plead his case again to his brother, to ask for his blessing in leaving the Shimada Clan.

An Overwatch agent hovers still in the room.  He is in the process of logging and removing a blade.

“It is only a ceremonial sword,” Genji says suddenly, the lie slipping out easily as he recognizes the gleam of the metal.  His voice echoes in the empty room and his own sword seems to lie heavy on his back.  “Leave it.”

The agent stammers excuses, until Genji fixes him under his steady gaze.  Hastily placing the sword back on its stand, the agent flees. 

Genji looks at the blade that should have killed him.  It is exquisitely made, and gleams still under the lights.  Genji looks around, wondering why Hanzo might have left his sword behind, until he notices its purposeful placement in front of a blood-stained hanging. 

This is Hanzo’s shrine, Genji realizes, disgust rising in his throat.  Hanzo has always loved pompous displays like this.  Trust him to mark where he had murdered his own brother.

Genji’s hands are shaking.  He spits on the ground and leaves the dojo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops a little late but i'm here
> 
> kudos, comments, etc. are always loved and appreciated <3


	5. (6 years ago)

“We’ll miss you,” Tracer says cheerily. 

McCree clasps him on the shoulder.  Genji successfully resists the urge to shrug him off.  “It’s been good workin’ with you, Genji.”

“Thank you for your service,” Reyes says.  His voice is slow and careful.

Genji acknowledges them all with a nod.  “Tell the others I say goodbye,” he says.  The words seem to get stuck in his throat but he chokes them out anyway.  “And thank you for your hospitality.”

He steps away firmly, shaking off any further attempts at conversation until even Tracer stands back and waves.  He had wholeheartedly insisted against a goodbye party, but they had still surprised him, waiting outside his door to ambush him with some final words. 

The many years and missions together lay heavy on his shoulders as Genji walks away from Overwatch.  He does not look back.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Genji has no one to report to. 

Genji wanders, starting from Gibraltar and slowly making his way across the Continent.  He finds himself staring unblinkingly at famous monuments as tourists swarm around him.  He tries the local foods, trying to ignore the metallic sheen that clouds his taste.  He pauses outside of a nightclub, trying to adjust to how the music pounding into the pavement rattles his new body in disjointing ways.

In another life, Genji might have enjoyed the journey.  But instead Genji grows more and more angry as time passes.  Dr. Zeigler and his medical team had done a number of aesthetic adjustments at his request, but he still feels the urge to cover himself with clothing.  No one wants to see something like him walk around comfortably in broad daylight. 

The Shimada Clan is gone.  His brother is missing.  There is no life before Overwatch, before the Shimada Clan, for him to reclaim.  Genji was built for bloodshed from birth.  He does not belong in the streets as a civilian tourist.

What is the use of being free if he does not know how to be anything other than a soldier? 

* * *

He gets a letter from Dr. Zeigler.  She tells him that Morrison and Reyes are dead.  Overwatch is being shut down.  She is not sure what the future holds, but she writes that she hopes Genji at least is doing well.

Genji takes the bottle of cheap French wine he is trying to drink and pours it over the letter. 

He might be a little drunk.  He is not sure.  He turns on the TV in his cheap motel room and flicks through the news, trying to catch anything about Overwatch, but the letter is weeks old already.  He should be impressed it found him at all.  He tries not to think about Reyes’s gaunt, tired face and ignores the knot in his chest.

He swipes a shuriken against his metallic arm until it sparks, lighting the letter on fire.

Let Overwatch burn.  Genji wants not to care.

* * *

Genji realizes he has been sloppy he hears brisk footsteps behind him.  He spins, aware of the narrowness of the alleyway and the amount he has had to drink.  Four figures surround him, and one of them throws the first punch.

Genji manages to slice through two before a third pins him down successfully.  Genji’s heart pounds.  Are these assassins sent by the Shimada Clan or perhaps even Hanzo himself?  Have they found out he is alive, have they finally come after him?

“A former Overwatch agent.”  One figure is combing through his bag.

“Nothing to worry about then.”  The one pinning him down looks at him.  “Sorry, buddy.  These cybernetics will fetch a pretty price.  Try not to take it personally.”

Genji stares blankly up at the night sky above him.  He thinks he is grateful that they reconstructed his body to still be affected by cheap booze.  His captors are little more than skilled scavengers, wanting to carve him open for parts. 

_What a ridiculous way to die_ , Genji thinks.  _Hanzo would have a fit if he knew._

He does not expect the flurry of orbs that fly overhead, sending his captors scattering for cover.  One orb strikes true and the lone survivor howls, scrambling to get away. 

Genji staggers to his feet, squinting at his saviour.  An omnic floats at the entrance to the alleyway.

The omnic raises a hand.  “Greetings.  I am Zenyatta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'll be honest i am currently Dying under the weight of school (im sure yall have noticed this update is late Again) so if i vanish for uhhh a week or three just. i'll be back. feel free to leave a comment, kudos, etc, they keep me going in my grave, i love you all


	6. (5 years ago)

“You are very persistent,” Genji says, wagging a fork at the omnic sitting across from him.

Zenyatta gives a small chuckle.  “You accept every invitation I extend to you.  I am not sure if you surprise me or yourself more.”

Genji leans back, chewing thoughtfully on his mouthful of cake.  “You saved my life, so my life is yours.  Is that not what people say?”  The cake is exceedingly sweet, enough to overwhelm even his changed tastebuds.  “That is how it has been my whole life.  If you want to preach to me, it seems like the least I can do is listen.”

“Have you given thought to what I told you at our last meeting?”

“No,” Genji lies.  He had thought about it a lot, actually, mulling it over during many starry nights as he trekked alone through the Alps.  Zenyatta likes to preach pretty words like harmony and tranquility and forgiveness.  Peace.  Concepts that feel as foreign to Genji as his mutilated body.

But he had thought about it nonetheless.  Zenyatta speaks with such self-assurance at all times it is hard not to get drawn in, to take his words as seriously as he usually speaks them.  Genji has to remind himself, constantly, that he is not here to make peace.  Peace is something he can only dream of in another life.

Unfortunately, Genji does not know what he _is_ here to do, which is how he ends up agreeing to meetings like this.  At least they break the monotone wandering of his travels.

“That is too bad,” Zenyatta says.  “Are you determined still to head back to your childhood home?”

Genji takes another mouthful of cake.  “Yes.  Do not try to talk me out of it again.”

“You are no closer to Japan than when we last talked, several months ago.”

“It is not your business.”  His fork scrapes against the plate and makes a horrible screech.  “I will go on my own time.”

Zenyatta’s orbs float around his neck peacefully.  “I had hoped we might travel together.  I will be returning to Nepal soon for a brief visit.”

“Maybe,” Genji says, giving a shrug.  He knows he should say no.  Zenyatta will fill the road eastward with more of his teachings.  He does not think he could bear the journey, especially if they travel slowly by ground.  He is too used to his own solitude now.

Zenyatta looks unfazed.  “You may contact me if you change your mind.  I will not leave for two weeks.”

Genji gives a curt nod.  They sit for a few moments in silence, Zenyatta gazing across the courtyard as Genji continues to eat his cake.  A waiter comes by to refill their water, steadily refusing to meet either of their eyes.

Genji should not even be considering going with him.  Even these sporadic meetings across Europe were a constant drain.

“Today is my birthday,” Genji says suddenly.  He is not completely sure omnics celebrate birthdays, but he has no one else to tell.  “I turned 30 today.”

“I did not know.”  Zenyatta’s orbs rotate with a quick spin.  His voice is warm.  “Happy Birthday, Genji.  I hope you are enjoying your cake.”

“Yeah,” Genji says, and he coughs to hide the tremble in his voice.  “Yeah, thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i live!!!! i'm a bit late again this week BUT i think we're good to upload on a weekly schedule so here we are, joining our boy back on his journey to redemption
> 
> kudos, comments, etc. are love, thank you all so much for your patience <3


	7. (4 years go)

Genji sits on top of the roof.  He watches the sun rise over Shimada Castle.  In the quiet of the morning, with only the brisk wind to keep him company, he can almost mistake this moment for a memory of his youth.

When the sky is bright, Genji stands.  He pays little mind to the quiet whir of his knees and clicks his visor back into place without thought.  He spends his morning cleaning in silence, deeply aware of how much dust an empty castle can gather in a blink of the eye.

The dojo is always the last room he cleans.  He sweeps away the dust and wipes down the floors.  When everything else is done, he sits before his brother’s sword and takes a few deep breathes.

Genji can almost hear his master’s voice in his ears.  If Zenyatta were here, he would say something about how Genji must let the past go so that it cannot hurt him anymore.  That it is not Hanzo, or the Shimadas, or this place that hurt him now.  It is only his memories that cause him pain.

Genji moves his metal fingers over the abandoned blade.  It is dulled by the years, although the blade is of a high enough quality that it could easily still cut if Genji is not careful.  He wryly thinks that it is an apt metaphor, that metal is harder to cut through than flesh.

He sits in front of the sword for a while longer before he gets up and goes about his day.  Zenyatta will be arriving in three days.  There is still much to prepare in the castle and he wants to be ready.

* * *

“I cannot believe my name has been entirely erased from the arcade,” Genji says.  He twists something in his right arm with his left hand, tightening until the muscles feel normal again.  “The children of Hanamura do not appreciate their history.”

“It is a boisterous place.”  Zenyatta floats beside him in the courtyard, his faceplate turned upwards to enjoy the sun as Genji adjusts his body.  “I can imagine how you might have enjoyed it in your youth.”

“Perhaps I will sneak back in tonight,” Genji says.  “I would like to put my name down again on at least one or two machines.”

“Do you not wish to go back during the day?”  Zenyatta’s voice is carefully neutral.  “I enjoyed our walk around Hanamura today.”

Genji pauses, the panels in his cybernetic arm still open.  He considers his words.  “Master, I understand that I need not be ashamed of who I am.  But still, in this town, it brings me sorrow to see the people afraid.”

An orb slowly spins, reflecting the sun, before Zenyatta nods.  “Then I wish you best of luck tonight.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, the distant sounds of the village floating through the air as Genji finishes adjusting his arm.  At a thought, three shuriken pop out of his hand and catch the sunlight.  With a satisfied nod, he rises and stretches his arms above his head.  “I am ready for our sparring.  Today I will not go so easy on you, Master.”

Zenyatta chuckles.  His orbs give a quick spin as he rises.  “I look forward to it, my student.”

Together, they walk inside.  Genji steps over the threshold without hesitation, the wood warm under his feet as sunlight illuminates the dojo.


	8. (3 years ago)

Genji catches the name as little more than a whisper.  When he turns, the two men in the corner have already dispersed, melting away into the crowds.

The name calls back to a mission from years ago, one of his last in Overwatch.  _Doomfist._

Genji forces himself to move along.  There is no sign of either man and he has no interest in tracking either of them.  He concedes that it is very possible Talon is on the rise again, profiting off of the war in Russia, but it is no longer his responsibility to muddle around in the underworld.  This should be no concern of his.

But he cannot shake himself free of the worry.  The quiet whisper echoes through his thoughts as he makes his way through the streets.  He remembers the hours spent in harshly light meeting rooms, reviewing files on Doomfist’s criminal profile with Reyes and Winston and Tracer.  He knows what destruction this one name can carry.

Zenyatta had suggested once that he try and trace any of his previous fellow agents.  Another step in the recovery program, Genji had thought wryly, and he had set the thought aside.  But if he knew them now, he could at least reach out and check what they know.  Chances are high that Tracer and Winston are still keeping tabs on Talon’s movements, even without Overwatch’s resources.  That was the kind of person they both were – heroes, as Tracer would say with a wink and some cheer. 

He thinks fondly of them now.  They had treated him well and welcomed him into a band of experimental misfits.  They were both similar to him in ways he had not then been able to see.  Perhaps that is why they had treated him so kindly, even though he had not been able to recognize it at the time.

Genji moves around the marketplace, checking things off his shopping list even as he mulls over his options.  He had never particularly believed in Overwatch’s ideals – he had never really been given much of an opportunity to see their shine, all things considered – but it is hard not to agree that the world is a better place without the Shimada Clan.  The world could probably be a better place without Talon too. 

Genji takes a few extra moments to compare two apples.  He chooses the brighter of the two.

* * *

Genji sits in his darkened room.  His hands hover uncertainly over an empty message.  He has realized that he does not want to shift the burden of the whisper onto their shoulders.  It feels cowardly to leave all the problems of the world to the self-assigned heroes. 

But Genji is not sure he wants the responsibility.  He thinks that he finally has some semblance of peace, and he does not want to disturb it. 

He meditates, hoping to ease the turmoil in his mind.  He tells Zenyatta what happened, and they talk long into the night about his past time in Overwatch.

When Genji sits again at his desk, his resolve is steadfast.  His conversations with Zenyatta echo in his conscience.  He wants to be a hero, like Tracer, like Winston, and like his master Zenyatta.  He wants to finally pick a side for himself, when he is clear of mind and of heart.

But before Genji battles the demons of the world, he wants to confront all the hurt within himself.  He writes to Dr. Zeigler and asks to meet her.  He tells her that he understands now. 

Genji says for the first time: _I thank you for saving my life._


	9. (2 years ago)

Genji flips through his file, bringing out individual clippings and placing them on the table.  He had spent the better part of a year travelling Europe, digging for information around the Overwatch headquarters.  He had even paid a few visits to some infamous bars, blending in better as a cybernetic ninja assassin than he ever had as a teenager, hoping to pick up any whispers from places and people known to him from his Shimada Clan days.

He is thankful that the face of Genji Shimada was no longer recognizable, and he can move freely as he pleases.  The name of his clan no longer weighs on his shoulders with each footstep.  He had even used his anonymity to set out a few feelers for any mention of Hanzo, but to his surprise, there was not even a whisper of his brother.

“I was not sure for a while, but something Dr. Zeigler said about the explosion made me think,” Genji explains to Zenyatta.  His master peers over his shoulder, reading each piece as Genji lays it out.  The two of them often travelled together, but they had split their attention in the past year.  Zenyatta sought an end to the war in Russia while Genji gathered information on Talon.

He knows now that Overwatch was betrayed.  He had spent years working alongside a traitor without ever realizing it, although he is not sure he would have cared then even if he had known.

“I believe these three are former agents of Overwatch.”  He points to each bundle of clippings.  The hard edges of masks and visors peer out from blurry pictures.  “Soldier: 76 is Jack Morrison.  The Reaper is Gabriel Reyes.  The Shrike is Ana Amari.”

“You believe your mentor, Reyes, is now an agent of Talon?”  Zenyatta’s voice is carefully neutral, as it always is when he seeks Genji’s reaction.  “Is he the traitor you suspect?”

“Yes.”  Genji pauses.  “No.”  The identity of the Reaper had been both the easiest to confirm and the hardest to believe. 

“I am not sure what to think of it,” Genji admits.  An old picture of Reyes lies on top of the pile.  The familiar, haunted eyes from his memories look at Genji and his master.  “I thought for a long time that Reyes was no better than my family, only on a different side.  But the more I fought with him, the easier it became to believe he is a good man.  Perhaps he was ultimately betrayed as well.  Perhaps they have done something to him.”

Zenyatta studies a picture of Soldier: 76 next to an old picture of Jack Morrison.  The white hair is a shock compared to the youthful grin. 

“All he has ever known is war,” Genji says softly.  “It is the same with the rest of them.  Even all these years after Overwatch has fallen, all they know is the battle.  Now that the war has returned, so have they.”

“Then let us look together towards a future when dead men may rest as they deserve,” Zenyatta says.  “May we strive ever towards an opportunity for all to know peace.”

_I too was born for war_ , Genji thinks as he inclines his head in agreement.  He remembers Reyes, wearing his heavy combat boots and dog tags even as he stood in Genji’s hospital room for the first time.  _I too was never built for peace, but I strive towards it nonetheless with you, master_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to upload on schedule today so a GOLD STAR to me. Kudos, comments, etc. are love! Thank you all for reading!!


	10. (1 year ago)

Genji waits at the intersection for the light to change.  A sudden flash draws his attention to a big screen mounted on the building across from him.  He is distracted for a moment as a teenaged girl headshots two omnics in her game, throwing out a peace sign in front of the camera when the threat is neutralized.  Two girls whisper excitedly behind Genji, and he thinks he hears them mention a battle in the East Sea.

The girl seems to follow him all the way across the city.  If she is not shooting at omnics, her face is the focus of newscasters and interviewers.  Whoever she is, she has captivated the attention of the country, and Genji finds himself watching curiously.

It takes Genji a few more blocks before he realizes what, exactly, he is watching.  He stops abruptly on the sidewalk, staring up at yet another screen broadcasting her stream, and the two girls behind him are forced to skirt around him.

_She treats war like a game,_ Genji thinks.  He feels cold as he watches her fire a stream of missiles from her mech.  Her face cam is tucked away into a corner of the screen, off-center and clearly not the focus as she racks up kill after kill, but Genji cannot stop staring at how she smiles and celebrates.  _She is so young._

He looks her up when he gets home.  Her gleeful laughter suddenly floods the empty room.  She talks quickly, shouting about high scores and nerfs, and Genji cannot comprehend why.  He reads her description and he searches her name, seeking answers.

Hana Song.  D.Va.  Korean pro-gamer and war hero.  Eighteen years old today.  Her stream has dominated all others since she went to the frontlines on her birthday.  Genji reads that she is an eager volunteer for South Korea’s new MEKA program.  The words are black on white and simple, but Genji’s heart feels heavy.

_She is so gleeful_ , Genji thinks, and he switches back to her stream and watches her shoot to kill.  _Does she really understand?  Did she really have a choice?_

_Would anyone ever truly willingly choose a life like this?_

He thinks of Hanzo, who had spent nights firing arrow after arrow unceasingly into the heads of practice dummies in the hopes of impressing their father.  When Hanzo had been congratulated on his first successful assassination, Genji had seen the way he hid both a smile and his shaking hands.  He had always basked in the affirmations of the clan elders while Genji had been wayward, seeking attention in other ways.

Gunfire crackles through the speakers, but Genji does not flinch.  It is the way she shouts at her teammate for taking a kill that unsettles him. 

“War isn’t a game,” D.Va says, a bit of static distorting her voice.  Her statement hangs in the empty room until she laughs.  It is a bright and tinkling sound, seemingly unaffected by the mediocre connection.  “Thanks for the comment, but isn’t life just a game?”

* * *

“I want to find my brother,” Genji says.  “It has been a long time.  Long enough.  Will you help me?”

It is Zenyatta who now fills his laptop screen, his orbs spinning slowly in contemplation as he processes Genji’s request.  “Do you seek revenge or understanding?”

Genji pauses.  “I want to know if what he did then – if he feels like it was his choice.  I want to know if he would choose differently now.”

“Do you think it was?” 

“He is my older brother.”  Genji smiles, although he knows his master cannot see it behind his mask.  “When I was young, I always wanted to believe that he thought he was protecting me and raising me up in his own way.  I want to believe that now he knows a better and kinder path.”

The room is silent.  Genji hesitates.

“But I cannot imagine,” Genji admits, “a Hanzo who is not, first and foremost, the heir to the Shimada Clan.  He loved the Shimada Clan enough to kill his own brother.  But perhaps he loved his brother enough to abandon the Shimada Clan.  That is why I want to see him, to see if he has defied every one of us.”

Zenyatta nods in understanding.  “Then we will seek your brother.”


	11. Chapter 11

It is – to say the least – an eventful night for Genji. 

He stands on top of the gate to Shimada Castle and watches as his brother disposes methodically of the guards and makes his way to the dojo.

Hanzo lights incense and bows his head in prayer and Genji does not know if he is holding back laughter or tears.  Hanzo could never just cry and admit he was sorry.  He had to take a yearly pilgrimage to face the dojo and the sword and the wall hanging stained with his brother’s blood.

The first time Genji had realized the pattern in Hanzo’s travels, he had taken three days to digest it before he told Zenyatta.  There had been some part of him that had been afraid, for the past ten years, that maybe his death had truly meant nothing to his brother.

_Let him see what I have become_ , Genji thinks, and he watches, wondering how long it will take Hanzo to notice him. 

* * *

Genji holds a blade to his brother’s throat.  Thoughts race through his mind, a thousand per second, unceasing as time seems to slow.

He thinks of Hanzo’s bow, which no doubt served as some kind of ridiculous penance he had imposed on himself.  He thinks of how Hanzo is quick to anger, but only when he hears this stranger talk of the brother he killed. 

It is a strange thing.  A weight has lifted from his chest.  He cannot describe what it feels like to know his brother mourns him, still, a decade later.  Perhaps his brother does love him.

Genji is suddenly flushed with shame.  He had thrown his first shurikens to land true, in a desperate rage when he realized Hanzo truly did not know him.  He wants more than anything to have his brother by his side but between them seems to stand a gulf widened by lifetimes of pain and silence.  Neither of them know each other as the men they are now, yet they had clashed again, seeking blood, as if they still knew no other way. 

But as Genji looks at Hanzo and his scars, he realizes that his brother thinks he deserves this.  Hanzo, as much as he had mocked Genji relentlessly for believing in the stories their father told, has always been the brother who believed in a righteous sort of honour. 

Genji thinks of Hanzo, mourning the brother he killed with his head bowed, haunted still by the past.  Hanzo, earning a living as a mercenary with only a bow and a death wish.

And he tells Hanzo what Dr. Ziegler had said to him, all those years ago.

_I will not grant you the death you wish for.  You still have a purpose in this world, brother._

He is surprised how easily the words come.  They ring true, truer than he himself had known before he spoke them.  The air in Hanamura is warm, and his words are gentle on the wind.

_I have accepted what I am and I have forgiven you.  Now you must forgive yourself._

* * *

Genji blows out a shaky breath.  He wants Hanzo back, here, now, so he can hug him close, feel his body warmly against his.  So that he can speak with him again without weapons drawn.

Genji can still feel the phantom warmth of his sword in his hands.  He can still picture the shock on his brother’s face when his own dragon had roared to life to entwine with his Hanzo’s.  Their dragons had not flown side-by-side in harmony for over a decade.  Genji had come here to see if they still could. 

Over the years, Genji has found home in other places and other people.  But as he sits now on a rooftop in Hanamura, he finds himself hoping that he can one day return to Shimada Castle, peaceably, with his brother at his side.  Let them build a better legacy together.

Genji knows he must wait.  Hanzo is not the same man he once was.  Genji is confident, more confident than he should be, even as he tries to guard himself against heartbreak.  He wants to believe wholeheartedly that his brother will choose differently this time.

A sparrow chirps in the darkness.  A figure climbs atop the gates to Shimada Castle, listening to this strange bird.

Genji waits for the sun to rise over Hanamura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the bottom of my heart - thank you for reading. It has been a bit of a journey in my personal life to make it here, but I am happy we've made it together nonetheless, even if the days are now long and dark. Thank you for every comment, every kudos, and know that I carry them with me as I too try to step forward out into the day.
> 
> I have plans and hopes for more Overwatch fic, but unfortunately writing has taken quite a backseat to other priorities right now - if you'd like to keep me company, feel free to message me at my [tumblr](http://burningdarkfire.tumblr.com/). Hope to see you all again soon <3


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